


scott street

by artthouromeo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Harry thinks everything is fine, Hurt/Comfort, Louis Tomlinson Needs a Hug, M/M, Mentions of Taylor Swift, Past Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Songfic, Symbolism, Tension, inspired by scott street by phoebe bridgers, louis actually has to address his feelings, louis heals, picture 2014 AMAs louis, this takes place at an art exhibition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29207856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artthouromeo/pseuds/artthouromeo
Summary: had harry really moved on? had he just forgotten everytime they held hands, kissed and cuddled in bed before breakfast? no no. louis couldn't forget (he wished he could) but he couldn't so why could harry move on so quickly? as if nothing romantic occurred between them, he spoke to louis as a friend.but harry was always more than a friend to louis.orin which louis sees harry after they break up and is forced to deal with his feelings.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Lottie Tomlinson & Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 7





	scott street

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone!!! this is my first work i’ve actually published so be nice and enjoy!!
> 
> also;;  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4ovBAl2iSeKS6qKSGJp54K?si=COoh9nHbRGi6UzlKEIaPEg

as graceful as this night was, louis tomlinson was dreading this party.

the collar of this suit was choking him out. or maybe that was just the nerves; either way he was convinced he was just going to pass out right there and then. 

what was he even doing here?

cold december air cut through his jacket, hitting him in the bones and caused him to shiver. every constellation imaginable was visible to the naked eye through leafless branches. soft violin music was audible as he drew closer to the building. a stupid art show. he didn't even enjoy art, but his fucking manager insisted on his attendance.

the building was small and boxlike with the types of rocklike bricks that he only saw in doncaster. inside was warm (thank god) with white painted over bricks. yellow, almost orange lighting hung above louis in hanging glass lights. the smell of wine was almost dizzying. people clammed into groups around the room, small chatter filling the area. 

everyone looked rich, everyone looked important, i mean what did you expect? louis supconsiously felt himself smoothing out his suit jacket so he looked somewhat presentable. he was wearing a black double breasted jacket with matching pants and dress shoes. mind you, the shoes were about a half size too small and crushing his toes. sparkley dresses and charcoal grey suits holding wine and champagne glasses filled the room. the string quartet sat in a blank corner of the room. 

as louis walked further towards the inside of the building he did a 360 of the art being exhibited. there it fucking was. the painting was staring back at him as much as louis was staring at the art. the lump in his throat grew larger as he approached. 

the painting wasn't large, merely the size of a decent sized television. it shows two hands reaching out towards each other, reminiscent of the creation of adam. one hand held a dagger stabbing into the other. the second hand had roses tangled around its wrist and up onto the other hand, thorns cutting into their fingers. no blood wasn't illustrated just open wounds. closer to the hands were warm, vibrant colors of orange and some yellows but as you moved further away they transformed dark cool colors and eventually into black along the edges.

what the actual fuck?

silence coated his throat but it seemed as if a scream was clawing up his esophagus. too real. too real. a burning in his chest expanded outward and past his ribs and onto his arms and legs. pins and needles stabbed the ends of his fingers. what was this, the fucking dagger and a damn rose?

water. he needed water. shit. fucking hell walking seemed impossible, the entire room was spinning. a man dressed in a red suit vest was holding a platter of champagne offering to a group stood by a painting of the new york skyline. louis swallowed hard and attempted to move. left right left right left right. his fingers reach up and clasp around the cold glass and bring it to his lips. your okay. your alive. anxieties leave his body as he feels the alcohol enter his bloodstream. 

okay maybe he'll actually survive this.

his eyes move from person to person in the crowd he had now joined. first he started at the shoes, they tell you everything about a person. then slowly he found their hands. if they were crossed they were irritated, in your pockets then you had manners and holding another you were a couple obviously. one set of hands almost made him lose his shit right then and there.

rings on every finger, two toned manicure and of, course the cross tattoo by his thumb. harry. harry fucking styles. his wide eyes travel up the red sparkling jacket, up past the half unbuttoned creme button up, cross necklaces, dove tattoos and to the face of someone who was all too familiar. 

"am i dreaming or is that louis tomlinson?" his low voice cuts through the air and makes louis swallow dryly. louis looked around for a excuse or literally anything to help him out. hairspray covered heads of hair and clean tailored suit collars stick out in the crowd. and then louis realizes he is truly alone in this matter and he actually has to deal with this conversation. he isn't allowed to run.

louis tomlinson can't run away from his issues or drown them in cheap rum and horderves.

"i-i suppose it is me. how are you?" louis paints a fake smile and asks politely trying to end this conversation as soon as possible. "i'm great. how are you, it's been a while hasn't it?" 

years. harry it's been years. "yeah- i'm good." louis wants to crawl inside himself and die. "how the band? i've heard they're all getting married. haven't spoken to the lads in a bit." his lips twirl into that smile that had louis by the heart for so so long. the question takes louis by suprise because he himself hadn't spoke to anyone, not even liam in a couple of months. not because he has some sort of distaste for any of them but for the fact that the sheer amount of energy it takes to send a message or call. he just...can't. 

"yeah yeah, zayn has a baby now, liam's engaged and niall.. he's being niall."

and with everything in him he hopes harry doesn't respond after that. he hopes that harry bids him farewell with a few more words because louis is isn't sure he can actually keep this conversation going for much longer. he can't look in him the eyes, those green eyes and pretend that they didn't have anything between them. no nights in the xfactor house, or long days in the studio, no shared dressing rooms and no christmases with his sisters. nothing. 

but of course harry continues.

"certainly miss the boys. it's been a while since we've all been together." he finishes. it's true. it had been five or so years since all five or even all four of them had been together at once. the last time was when louis performed on xfactor right after his mother passed. it felt wierd. strange not to wake up to liam cooking bacon in an apron. uncomfortable to fall asleep to silence instead of the strum of the guitar from nialls bunk. unnerving not to have zayn spray painting the walls of his room, ignoring everything else. and so so so bizarre that harry wasn't by his side constantly. 

"i've heard your sisters got her degree, makes me feel old." louis steers the conversation back onto harry because he is unsure if he can talk to him about the band without absolutely breaking down because it is an open wound. a five year old open wound, but an open wound.

actually, louis is unsure of everything right now.

"well whats that make me then?" harry questions. "i don't know harry, i don't know." he can feel the anxiety forming into anger bubbling in his stomach and rising into his chest. 

louis feels like he is going to cry or start punching him. it's a tsunami of emotions seeing harry here. the heat in the room is choking him out and he feels like he's gonna pass out. harry's response isn't audible but he can see his lips form into words. he watches his eyebrows scrunch together and his eyes fill with concern. this time he can actually hear him speak, "louis? are you okay?" 

and that, those four words send louis tomlinson into a blind rage.

"am i okay? am i okay? ghee harry do i look okay? i certainly don't feel okay. i know that for damn sure. wanna know why? because of you. your acting like everything is handy dandy and nothing is wrong between us and it pisses me off! i haven't spoken to you in years and you have the fucking nerve to bring up the band!" fists are clenched to his sides and his eyes are full of tears by the time he decides to actually take a breath. 

harry's face is blank. "i hope you figure your shit out i really do" his voice drops after realizing the entire population of the room is staring towards him. this doesn't stop him from stealing a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar that he'll just send a check to pay for in the morning.

he unscrews the cap and throws in into a bush as he turns down the street. the roads are empty as are the sidewalks dim streetlights illuminate the path in front of him. louis deeply inhaled and the cold air fills his lungs, he feels like he can finally breathe again.

swig and after swig he nearly emptied the container. he felt like he had turned a million times in order to get as far away from the art show as possible. he peers up into the night sky to try and find a street sign to give him sort of an idea of where he is. the white letters read out, "scott st."

scott street? where the fuck is that? oh well, louis thought as he continued down the sidewalk. his feet felt like they were bleeding from blisters and unbroken in leather. the whiskey swooshed around in the glass bottle. if it wasn't for alcohol taking the pain away he probably would've thrown it against the side of a building by now.

had harry really moved on? had he just forgotten everytime they held hands, kissed and cuddled in bed before breakfast? no no. louis couldn't forget (he wished he could) but he couldn't so why could harry move on so quickly? as if nothing romantic occurred between them, he spoke to louis as a friend. 

but harry was always more than a friend to louis. 

maybe this was his version of coping, or something like that; either flying into a blind rage or being overcome with a deep feeling of guilt and sadness when he saw him. if this is his mind finally getting over harry he was terrified of what might happen when he was fully over him.

maybe he didn't want to be over harry.

louis takes a few steps down the sidewalk and he hears the quiet hum of an engine behind him. probably the cops. how would he explain this one? maybe call his manager and somehow get him off the hook because he has an album coming out soo and god forbid something damage his reputation. because he was famous. 

a black range rover pulls up beside louis, the window rolls down and it's none other than harry because the strings of fate hate louis tomlinson. he's leaning over the window to louis. fleetwood mac is merely audible from the speakers in the car. the red suit is making harrys lips look even more pigmented. the swoop of the curls on his head are accentuated from the street light above and louis feels his heart drop.

harry has the same fearful look in his eyes that was all to familiar. the one that rose to the surface when zayn had decided to leave and when harry had lost robin. sorrow sat behind them in a way that scared louis. he wanted to wrap his arms around harry so tight it was cutting his blood circulation off and let him know he was there. 

memories overflow his mind. sniffing the soft lavender scent that hung in harry's hair after showers. tasting the stupid chicken wrapped parmesan while frank sinatra plays on the radio, which harry insisted on purchasing. the smell of nail polish stuffed up his nostrils from the first time louis painted harrys nails a light purple to match his shirt. the way harry sang into his microphone on stage with so much passion and energy filling the arena. burning around his eyes become apparent when he finally returns to reality. 

"the fuck do you want now?" louis asks before taking another sip of the alcohol, attempting to distract himself from the whirlpool of feelings. "hey now, don't yell. i just wanted to see if you were okay. you didn't..you didn't look like yourself back there." the car is slowly inching forward staying stuck to louis's side.

"i'm bloody brilliant." louis says flailing his arms up into the air. there's so much he wants to add but he stays quiet. 

"get in the car."

"no."

"get in the car."

"fuck off."

"get in the car."

"wha- who do you think yo-"

"lou, get in this car right now."

the nickname strikes him like a bullet straight to the heart. his face falls and his arms trail back to his sides. in complete silence louis grabs the handle of the passenger side door and opens it. it's take everything in him not to run but fall victim to harry's stupid way with words.

harry doesn't bother to strike up conversation, instead he waits for louis to feel comfortable enough to talk because he's a good person and louis hates it. "why are you doing this?" a soft sigh escapes from harrys lips, "because i care for you louis." bullshit. "if you cared about me you would still be with me." louis doesn't hesitate to speak his mind and he regrets the words as soon as they come from his mind. 

he doesn't know why he said it and now he wants to sink into the leather on the seats. the fleetwood mac song switches to a soft melody strumming along a guitar. taylor swifts voice flows through the speakers and this is way too ironic for louis to begin to comprehend so he blocks out the music and is left with his thoughts.

why is he riding his harry's car? why is he drinking his feelings away? why isn't he going home to harry in bed with a face mask on? why aren't they together?

aren't soulmates supposed to be together?

because that's what louis tomlinson thought he and harry styles were.

but i guess not. 

and even after ruining the art exhibit, after the car ride with harry, after louis returns to his hotel room. and after breaking up with harry styles louis learns how to carry on with his life. and after enough heartbreak for a couple lifes louis begins to heal. 

his scabs turn into scars and the bruises fade. he no longer spends his days locked in his room, writing and stalking harry's social media's that aren't even ran by him. his days turn into brunches with lottie, recording his second album and maybe even downloading tinder.

and louis tomlinson no longer feels ashamed to hear his name.


End file.
